


but first

by memitims



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Selfies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>debbie teaches ian and mickey how to take selfies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but first

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by bullet point #5 on [this](http://zoroasterperetola.tumblr.com/post/90887735050/yes-but-consider-ur-fav-ship-making-rly-bad) list ('yes but consider your fav ship T A K I N G S E L F I E S’)

Debbie and Mickey were huddled together on the living room sofa when Ian got home and they made some weird flailing motions before staring up at Ian in unison, matching innocent looks on their faces.

“Um,” Ian said, staring at the spot where Debbie’s phone had flipped up in the air and fallen onto the couch in their haste. “Were you guys taking selfies?”

“No,” Mickey said, hurriedly.

“Yes,” Debbie squeaked.

Mickey nudged her in the ribs, glaring at the side of her head. “You weren’t supposed to tell him,” he hissed.

Debbie shrugged. “Should’ve given me the rest of that Snickers. Can’t really be expected to keep my mouth shut if I’m not properly compensated for my efforts.”

Ian laughed at the surprised look on Mickey’s face. Mickey flipped him off.

“So,” he started. “Why exactly were you taking selfies? Besides giving me something to make fun of you guys for.”

“Mickey said he’d never taken one,” Debbie piped up, “And I told him that he was missing out on a valuable life experience. So he agreed to try it out with me.”

Ian rubbed his hand over his chin, thoughtfully. Mickey was looking at him, eyes soft, one of those half-hidden smiles trapped on his lips, because at the end of the day, Ian knew that Mickey didn’t really care if Ian caught him doing something embarrassing, if Ian thought he was a freak. Because Ian didn’t care about any of that, he just wanted Mickey, real, genuine Mickey, doing whatever the hell his heart wanted. Under all the grumbles and the tough exterior, Ian knew that Mickey was really just a giant dork, and he couldn’t be more happier that Mickey chose to share that part of himself with Ian (Ian didn’t ever think he would, once, he thought Mickey would always hold him at arm’s length, always keep that softer part of himself under lock and key, but Ian should’ve known. Mickey always had a tendency to surprise him).

“Scoot your ass over,” he said to Mickey, and flopped down on the couch in-between Mickey and his sister.

“The hell, Ian?” Mickey asked, as he was squished into the armrest of the couch. Debbie laughed. Ian grabbed the phone.

“I’ve never taken a selfie either. Debs, you gonna teach me?”

“Of course.” She clapped her hands together, delightedly. Mickey groaned.

Ian tried to hand the phone to Debbie, but she told him to keep it, presumably because he was in the middle and apparently there was actual strategy to taking selfies.

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed. “Debbie taught me all the rules,” like he was the fuckin’ expert on selfies now, like he knew everything, and Ian didn’t know why he found Mickey being a know-it-all so fucking endearing. Ian shook his head, fondly, and held up the phone. He snapped a couple pictures while Debbie directed him how to hold the phone.

“Let’s look at them,” Debbie said, so Ian flipped through the photos. Debbie burst out laughing. “These are almost worse than the other ones, Mickey!”

The pictures all looked pretty much the same. Debbie was grinning widely, Ian was smiling, his big doofy, lopsided smile that he kinda hated (but Mickey had told him once, late at night, when Ian had pressed a smiling kiss into the bare skin of Mickey’s shoulder, that he liked Ian’s huge, imperfect smiles the best, the one he reserved for Mickey and Mandy and his siblings, and Ian had told Mickey that he said the most disgustingly sappy shit sometimes, but Mickey had just shrugged and said it was all Ian’s fault in the first place), and Mickey was glaring at the camera.

“Mickey,” Ian laughed. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

“You’re right,” said Mickey. “I’m about to kill two someones.”

Ian nudged him in the shoulder. “It’s not that bad. C’mon, one more. Smile this time.”

Mickey grumbled under his breath, but Ian watched him smile out of the corner of his eye as he took the picture. Ian couldn’t help but grin a little wider at that.

Ian pulled up the picture. They were all smiling, now, and something in the way Mickey’s grin was so relaxed and fuckin’ bright and just plain happy made something tighten in Ian’s chest. It was stupid, but Ian was a sucker for Mickey’s rare smiles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, without any heat. Debbie giggled beside them.

“I think,” Ian started, “I’m gonna send that picture to Mandy.”

Mickey made a horrified noise and tried to snatch the phone out of Ian’s hands. “No fucking way, Gallagher.”

Ian held the phone high above his head, waving it, taunting Mickey because he was taller and had longer arms and Mickey made fun of his gangly limbs, sometimes, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing now.

“Give me the fucking phone.” Mickey stretched out his arms and then he slammed his body into Ian’s, pushing him backwards into the couch.

“I’m out,” Debbie said, and she scrambled off the couch, avoiding the boys' dangerous, flailing arms.

Ian ended up flat against the couch, his back pressed against the cushions, and Mickey climbed on top of him and grabbed the phone. He stuck out his tongue at Ian. “Loser.”

Ian surged forward and kissed Mickey hard, and he dropped the phone into Ian’s lap, momentarily distracted, and Ian chuckled softly into the kiss. “Not so good at holding onto that, hotshot?” Ian broke the kiss and wrapped his hands around the phone, keeping it away from Mickey.

“Fuck you,” Mickey panted from above Ian, still trying to catch his breath, because he never failed to be hilariously out-of-breath after a good kiss. 

“Mandy’s gonna love this,” Ian smirked. “Her big, scary, older brother smiling into the camera. It’s a miracle!”

Mickey kissed him, this time, because two could play at this game, and Mickey gave Ian as good as he got. It was Mickey’s most effective method of shutting Ian up, after all. Truth be told, it kinda worked. Ian didn’t have time to think about messing around with Mickey, not when Mickey’s mouth was on his. It was a problem, but Ian could deal with it. Ian smiled, lopsided, into the kiss, and he could feel Mickey smile back.


End file.
